


Doing Brownie(s)

by F1DEL1US, noseriouslythisis



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: And come up with dialogue that leads nowhere, Because we go off on tangents sometimes, Except sometimes it does, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 11:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13786404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F1DEL1US/pseuds/F1DEL1US, https://archiveofourown.org/users/noseriouslythisis/pseuds/noseriouslythisis
Summary: Mo's oblivious, Freddie's secretly hilarious and Brownie's lucky





	Doing Brownie(s)

**Author's Note:**

> M & I (and the rest of our friends) have a habit of devolving into fic dialogue and conversations no matter what we are talking about, and this fic started off with one such dialogue. Hope you enjoy!

Ah, fall. 

 

A time of training camps and pre-season and...cooking classes, apparently? 

 

See, as the self-appointed father figure of the new team (yes, there was an  _ actual _ father on the team now, but never let it be said that Mo gave up on his kids, hopeless as they might be), he liked to think that he was a good role-model to his rookies. Except, seemingly  _ pretending _ to be an adult who knew what he was doing wasn’t good enough. 

 

Management had decided that they should all be able to feed themselves and when Mo had enthusiastically suggested that he could help with that, informed him (kindly) that watching him learn how to cook in that blasted video was what had given them the idea in the first place...and no, he  _ hadn’t _ convinced them he knew what he was doing either.

 

Jake  _ still _ broke off into giggles at random times thinking of that conversation.

 

So a cooking boot-camp it was. 

 

\-----

 

On the first day, the team gathered at the headquarters of a cooking school downtown, to learn how to be semi functioning adults (because let’s be real, fully functioning adults they would never be). 

 

Sighing, Mo made his way up the stairs into the building. Cooking was not his strong suit, as everyone and their linemate liked to remind him. Never had been. Him and Jake had never cooked as roommates, and now that they both lived off of the food the Leafs provided and meal services, and the occasional home cooked meal when their own veteran teammates took pity on them, there hadn’t been a  _ need _ to learn. 

 

But as much as it pained him, the vets won’t be around forever, and as unlikely and far fetched as it had once seemed,  _ they _ were going to be the wily old vets on their team before they knew it. Perhaps cooking lessons  _ were _ a smart idea. 

 

Besides, they might even help in impressing possible...uh...suitors. So.

 

\-----

 

The room was basically an old warehouse floor with a few kitchen islands scattered throughout. Fancy, but still, very Toronto. 

 

Mo watched his teammates trundle in one after the other, laughing and chatting and grouping together in twos to form cooking teams, as instructed. Jake was soon by his side, of course, and they continued to teammate-watch together. It was always nice to have everyone together after so long apart, and it was still early enough in the pre-season that the shine had yet to rub off.

 

The cooking teams were unsurprising. Willy and Kappy were in front, Aus and Mitch right behind them, with their resident gingers after them etc. Soon, the instructors made everyone settle down (which...if he had thought  _ Babs _ was scary, well lets just say he had nothing on them. In fact, Babs would probably be taking notes if he were here) and explained the basic outline of the course. Then, they pointed them to the ingredients stacked on their islands. Not pre-measured, of course. Wonderful.

 

“Learn anything since I last saw you...you know, when you almost burned down my kitchen boiling water?” Mo asked, pulling out the ingredients the instructor was whizzing through. 

 

“Oh yes!” Jake answered, surprising him enough that he stopped in his tracks and looked at him. And the grin he found on his friend’s face did not bode well for him. “But there is... _ mushroom _ for improvement.” 

 

_ Motherfu... _

 

\-----

 

And so, they had giggled their way through an actual meal, and in Mo’s case, suffered through and survived Jake’s puns. Salad, Salmon with Sweet Potato, Creme Brulée. They even managed to make it taste good. Carrick had looked like he was going to faint from joy at the sight of a blow torch. At the end though, they were all exhausted. They dispersed to play Chel (practice for the tourney, more like) and chill, having had practice before the class already.

 

The next morning, without practice this time, they found themselves back at the school again. Yawning, Mo leaned against Jake and the counter and idly watched his teammates again. Most of them were still half asleep, it looked like. Except Carrick, who loved mornings, the weirdo, and...the gingers. The were chatting at their station, Brownie sat on the countertop and cradled a cup of coffee in his hands. Mo could have sworn Freddie’s hand rested on Brownie’s leg, but when he blinked and looked again, it was resting on the counter. Shaking his head, Mo focused on the electric whiteboard at the front of the room. The instructors chose that moment to greet them and the team scrambled to get back into position, putting their aprons back on. (with the leafs logo stamped on the front, and their numbers in the corner. Mo really hoped they would be allowed to keep those, they were neat).

 

“Today,” one of the instructors said, “Today, we are doing Brownies.” 

 

Without missing a beat, with his usual blank face, Freddie said plainly “Way ahead of you.” 

 

He had said it quietly, only loud enough for the tables around him to hear, but the reaction was immediate. 

 

“What?” Carrick whispered, betrayal ripe in his tone. 

 

Mostly, confusion. 

 

“It’s 9 AM in the fuck...freaking morning....” Willy was saying. 

 

Some of his teammates were asking Freddie if he knew how to bake.

 

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t bake for me when I asked,” that was Mitch. 

 

Meanwhile, Brownie looked like he was trying not to laugh. 

 

Mo didn’t quite know what was happening. It was an innocuous comment, surely. Except...except this was Freddie and Freddie never said anything that didn’t have a purpose. 

 

Then, out of nowhere, Auston choked on the chocolate he had been stealing from the bowl in front of him and broke off into a coughing fit, sending Brownie over the edge until he was practically on the floor with laughter. 

 

Mo...still didn’t get it. 

 

Well, he hadn’t....until. Until he saw Freddie reaching out his hand to help Brownie up off the floor, making his shirt ride up slightly in the process to reveal some scratches. When he straightened (nope, don’t go there Mo), he seemed to steady Brownie further by holding on to his hips, slipping his fingertips up under Brownies shirt to caress the skin...

 

Mo’s face flamed and he turned away abruptly. 

 

His...his teammates...Mo needed to sit down for a minute. This didn’t happen,  _ couldn’t _ happen, not so  _ casually _ . Right? Because if it did...Well. 

 

Okay, it was okay. He was having an existential crisis about everything he had wanted, and thought he could never have, only to realize he was possibly being an idiot but...it was okay. 

 

Or at least it would be, once he and Jake talked. Once the rest of his teammates had calmed down, perhaps. Once they’d recovered from the Mayhem that had broken out after the penny had collectively dropped, and money had changed hands.  _ After _ they had slipped the instructors a tip, for having to deal with them so out of bounds. But after that, yeah. Then they would have a little chat. 

 

Except...“A good baker will  _ rise _ to the occasion,” Jake said out of nowhere, and Mo ended up being the collateral damage in a face full of flour headed his way....and god, he was in love with an  _ actual fucking idiot _ , and maybe the conversation won’t happen until  _ after _ Mo had already murdered and revived him.  __

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are like Brownies. Doing them would be appreciated ;)


End file.
